


Mediocre Lives and Self Sacrifice

by JForward



Category: Community (TV)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Blood, Hospitalization, Hospitals, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Self-Harm, attempted suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-02
Updated: 2015-06-02
Packaged: 2018-04-02 12:32:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,885
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4060165
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JForward/pseuds/JForward
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I'm never getting out of here, am I?"</p><p>Annie's gone. What's left?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Borders

**Author's Note:**

> Okay so that final episode was glory, even if I think the end tag made my brain drip out my ears. Of course, being the angst hound that I am, it can't all be that easy and closed up now...  
> As ever, I don't own Community, or any part of it. I'm just here to make your hearts hurt.

 

  
The Goodbyes.

Jeff had hung around in the airport with Annie and Abed until both their flights were gone. Then, for a little while after; he stayed in the lobby, looking out the window, watching in the direction that her plane had gone. There was a strange feeling, in his chest; like something had a tight grip on his heart. He knew it was all metaphorical, nothing really wrong, but despite that, as he stood in front of the glass, tears ran down Jeff Winger's face. It took him a little while to get ahold of himself. When he finally did, drawing a deep breath, drying his eyes with a tissue, Jeff headed back to the car. It was like he was going numb, from his heart out to the tips of his fingers and his toes. Annie was gone. Annie was gone. And there was that pain again and Jeff found himself half curling up, resting his head on the wheel and wrapping his arms around himself.  
  
Deep breaths, steadying himself, he forced himself into action. Jeff knew that if he didn't move then he'd end up there for hours again. It was remarkable that he got the car back to his apartment in one piece, his mind was so out of it. Just ten minutes ago she'd been in the seat next to him, just half an hour, just an hour ago... when he stumbled up to his apartment he was crying again, the tears trickling down his face. He didn't sob, just breathing a little more heavily, struggling to get his key into the lock. God, he needed a drink. The summer stretched out in front of him, empty and lonely. Who was left? Him and Britta. Just the two of them. Pierce was dead. Troy was becoming a man. Shirley was living her dream. Abed was becoming a TV executive. And Annie...  
"Annie's going to be president." he whispered to himself, as his hands found the bottle of scotch and poured himself a decent serving. "Annie's going to be president."

Sitting in his chair, Jeff stared at the blank TV. His mind was swinging between being too crowded with thoughts to pick one out and completely blank. The scotch didn't taste of anything. He looked down and realised that his glass was empty. When had that happened? Time was taking on a very strange sort of - lack of solidity, to him. Was it the fact it was the break? No. He knew it wasn't. It was the idea of facing all that time without Annie. How the space stretched off in front of him. Just him and Britta. There was some irony in that, wasn't there? How the study group came to be. And now he thought of Britta more like a sister than anything else, someone to tease and joke with and protect. Just them. He got up and went to the kitchen again, got another glass of scotch.  
That one vanished like the first.

Somewhere around his fourth glass, Jeff found himself holding a photo album. He was old enough to enjoy having printed pictures - although, admittedly, a lot of these photos had been given to him by Annie. He thought of all the photos in her locker; the study group, back when they were a whole group and not the save greendale committee and not the remains of ... so much hope. What had they gone there to do? To become a lawyer again. Well, he'd failed at that. There was so much ambition in all of them, back then, even though he'd been so closed off at the time. He'd just wanted his job back. They were all a means to an end. And the closer he got to them, the further he got from getting back to what he really loved. And where was he now? He was still stuck at Greendale. Forever, by the looks of things. Trapped in that place until he died or went insane, whichever came first. Probably the latter.

He'd told her. Finally told her. And every time he thought about it he could see Annie's face; telling him to kiss her. The hesitation he'd felt. Because although everything in him wanted to scoop her up and kiss her and never stop, there was also all that weight behind her. Annie's dreams were calling her and he would never want to be the one to pull her back. He'd had to be sure it was something she wanted. And because it was, he'd done it. And now the feeling wouldn't go away. Taking a steady breath, he turned the page. Looking at six years worth of shiny paper, in a little book. When had she given this to him? Fourth year, he remembered. After he graduated early. When they'd finally been okay with it...  
"Don't forget us." she'd said.  
"As if I ever could." Jeff croaked, and took a shaky breath.

Getting to his feet - wow, why was the floor pitching so badly? - he headed to the bathroom. Then stood in front of the mirror, staring at the reflection. Jeff wondered who he was seeing. Six years ago, when he'd first stood in front of this mirror, having lost his old apartment. Slowly, the teacher began to catalogue the changes. His features had hardened. The scruff made his jawline clearer. Crow's feet by his eyes. Smile lines on his mouth. Eyes, still blue, but red rimmed and bloodshot. Probably from the five scotches. His hair was now shaven shorter, more severe - that had been a decision. Because he wasn't spending nearly as much time on his hair, and if it was drawing back, well... something he had to deal with. And that had been dealt with by having it in an almost military cut. His body was more muscular, of course - he'd been working out considerably more. A good distraction.

Nausea assaulted him. Jeff took a drink and turned away, unable to stand looking at himself any longer. Looking at the window, the urge to go to bed washed over him. But it was still too early. Far too early. Looking at the wall, Jeff realised that it was probably too early to drink.  
Then he thought of Annie kissing him and drained the glass totally.  
With a fresh one in hand, now forgetting how many he'd had, Jeff moved over and resumed his place on the couch. Resting the glass of amber liquid on the arm of the chair, an impulse made him reach down and undo his watch. Letting the expensive accessory fall onto his lap, Jeff trailed a thumb over the mark it covered. It was a thick, glossy line; faded to white in the six years since it was created. Shutting his eyes, just a moment, Jeff swallowed hard.  
"Not today. Not now. What would she think?" he mumbled to himself, before he did the watch up almost brutally tight.

Holding the glass of scotch tight, Jeff started feeling himself slipping back into that disconnected mode. Something in the back of his mind told him this was a bad idea, but no matter what that little voice said, Jeff knew there was no preventing it.  
He was jarred out of the melancholy by a knock at his door. Getting to shaky feet, Jeff opened it; almost started into dropping his drink when a small shape immediately wrapped itself around him in a tight hug.  
"They're gone, then, Jeffrey?" the dean sniffled. Jeff awkwardly rested a hand on the small man's back, nodding slowly. "Oh, I'm gonna miss 'em..." he shuffled past Jeff into the apartment. Still numb, Jeff shut the door behind the dean.  
He couldn't help but feel kinda glad. At least the presence of another person meant he wouldn't do anything stupid.  
Probably.


	2. The Bottle

 

The Bottle

Coming awake was like a splash of cold water in Jeff's face. He started, blinking up at his ceiling. Where was he? The headache digging in the back of his brain no longer signalled that he had drunk too much the last night. Now it meant that he needed a drink as soon as possible. Really, he should have been worried about that, but he decided to put that thought track aside. He had the whole summer to fix that.  
At that thought, it was like someone stuck a drain into his motivation. He felt the urge to get up failing, just flopping back onto the sofa, resuming his staring at the ceiling. A dozen different urges were pulling at Jeff's mind. His body had needs - the bathroom was a definite one. The habit of getting up and taking a shower was tugging him in that direction, and his bladder was quite urgently adding to it. But that wasn't enough to make him move. Being still seemed far more appealing.

His back and legs were aching, from sleeping on furniture too small for him; but that didn't make him move either. The urge for a glass of scotch was the strongest, tugging him towards his little kitchen, but even that wasn't enough. Jeff could feel a sort of fog descending on him, his own personal little raincloud. Weight on his chest and shoulders was pinning him to the sofa. Staring blankly at the ceiling sounded like a very, very good idea. He wasn't sure he could've moved, even if he wanted to. But after maybe a half hour of building himself up, Jeff turned his head sideways, looking across the lounge. Two empty scotch bottles sat on the table. Two glasses. There was a third bottle; he couldn't make out the label. Something fruity and full of vodka.

But he just didn't care enough to get up and check. Slowly, it filtered down to Jeff's brain that the dean had come around. That explained the third bottle of drink, he supposed. The dean wasn't here now, or so it would seem. Jeff couldn't bring himself to look around any more. Instead, he shut his eyes, letting his body drift off into another uncomfortable doze. What stirred him next was a high pitched, irritating beeping noise that he recognised as his alarm clock. He must've forgotten to disable it. Looking around, Jeff spotted the blackberry sitting on the kitchen counter. Slowly, with difficulty, he eased himself upright and crossed the space, finally disabling the annoying little sound.

Stood at the counter, his legs felt weak. The couch looked appealing, still; he could see his bed from where he was. But now that he was up, those other needs were becoming undeniable. Dragging out energy from reserves that Jeff hadn't even known were in him, he went and made use of the facilities. A shower was way too much energy, though. Just doing what he'd done had taken that last little reserve. Something was prickling in his mind, something he'd been told in the past, but he brushed it aside. It was summer. There was nobody to see, nobody left to spend time with; all he needed was scotch and bed. For however long it took before he could feel like a human being again.

The disaster came hard. All the bottles in his apartment were empty. Fear clenched up Jeff's chest, as he dug through every cabinet, even his recycling bin.  
"No, no, no no no no-" he couldn't do it. Not without a drink. He looked at the wall. It was late in the day enough. He could go get some. The idea of going outside was a bad one, but he knew he needed the drink. Had to get a drink. So, with difficulty, he pulled on shoes and found his wallet, his keys. Left his phone behind because it didn't matter; the scrunched up clothes and the smell around him didn't matter. Down the stairs, out of the building, to his car. Cursing and hitting the wheel when it didn't start on the first turn, then relaxing when it did. The trip was short because he drove like an idiot, but couldn't bring himself to care. A bottle of scotch. No, that wasn't enough. He went to the counter with four, spent almost five hundred dollars he wasn't sure he had, but the transaction worked. Resisting the urge to take a gulp from one before he got home with great difficulty.

By the time he got back into his room, there was that disconnecting sensation again. It was awful. He felt frantic and exhausted at the same time. Walking into his room, Jeff grabbed a glass from the side, putting it on his bedside cabinet. Kicking off his shoes, he poured a big glassful, and started to sip it as he sat back on his bed. Now that he was here, all the energy was gone again. He had scotch, he had somewhere comfortable, and the summer stretched out in front of him all over again. That utter sensation of emptiness began to transmogrify into a feeling of exhaustion. Sinking back into pillows, Jeff drifted asleep. And that was how the cycle began.  
  
He couldn't even place how it happened. Annie going seemed to have taken that last bit of energy he had left in the world. His mind was plummeting back into a place it hadn't been for almost six years. Since he got disbarred. When he swam up to consciousness, he would just drink for however long it took to take him under again. If anyone had said 'depression' to the old Jeff? Never. That didn't happen to Jeff Winger. But here he was, without the energy to do more than drink and sleep. Every part of him had just totally given up at the idea of Annie and Abed being gone. And Elroy, too. God. Everyone was going. Everyone was fading out. What loss would he be? None. None at all... and so he would go back off into the sleep, drifting further and further into the fog.

He woke up in the middle of the night, for real. His mind was still beautifully heavy with the booze; he knocked an empty bottle over when he moved. Who cared? Very carefully, he made another trip to the bathroom, feeling even shakier than he had before. The fact that he hadn't eaten since the day he took Annie and Abed to the airport surfaced, but the idea of preparing anything ... no. Back into the bed he crawled, pressing his face into the pillows.  
His mind, determined to torture him, dragged up that moment again. In seconds, it seemed, his pillow was damp with tears again. He'd told her how he felt and she'd still gone. But had he wanted her to stay? No. He wanted her to be happy. Because his life was done. She was twenty five and heading into the world, and he was almost fourty one and on the slope out of it. No matter how much he tried to dig his nails in, that slope was going to tilt and tilt until he tumbled out of the world.

But she hadn't said no, Jeff told himself. She hadn't said she didn't love him back. She'd said... what had she said?  
_If you don't kiss me, you're going to regret it._  
She was right, of course. He would've regretted not kissing her more than anything in the world. But he couldn't make her stay. And he shouldn't. There was no reason to make her stay.  
"The world needs Annie Edison." Jeff whispered to himself, gripping the scotch, downing the rest of it and pouring another glass. "Far more than Annie Edison needs me." Putting it aside, he rolled over, staring at the curtained window. The light of a streetlamp cast a slight orange glow on it. And Jeff stared at that until he started to doze again. "The world needs Annie... far more than it needs me..." he whispered to himself, and sighed softly. Then he was out again.  
  
It wasn't like anybody would miss him.


	3. The Blade

  
The Blade.

When had he taken Annie to the airport?  
That seemed like an important question, but he couldn't remember the answer to it.  
The room was kind of foggy.  
Sleeping seemed like a good idea.  
\---------  
He was moving. The scotch was almost gone; down to the last bottle. When had he bought that? Yesterday, he thought. Maybe the day before. It was dark again. Was it the same darkness or a different one? Jeff felt like mouldy bread. Slowly, he eased himself out of the bed. With difficulty, he undid and removed his rumpled and disgustng clothes. Slowly, gingerly, he found his pyjama trousers and put them on. What had caused this bubble of purpose, he had no idea. But he needed a shower. Desperately. Moving slowly, like someone recovering from a sickness, Jeff headed into the bathroom. The shower felt blissful; he was able to switch his mind off for a little. Getting dry took energy. Getting dressed seemed a thousand miles away, but pulling on the soft pyjama bottoms was easy enough.

Hunger made itself known. The lightheadedness told Jeff just how close he'd come to something worse. There was a bowl of fruit in the kitchen. He stared at it for a long moment, as if it could tell himself. But when it didn't, he reached out and took a slightly browned banana. Ever so cautiously, trying hard not to make himself sick, he pulled it apart and ate the pieces. At some point he sat on the couch again, feeling energy dripping away from him. Jeff Winger. He thought of his old self, again; the self before he'd fallen hook line and sinker for Annie. For anyone. To the point where he'd consider throwing away most of his morals just to be something happy with her. Because it was worth it, for Annie. Without warning, a twinge of pain struck him, and Jeff inhaled sharply. It wasn't a new sensation. Almost a punishment for him not eating for so long. When the cramps faded he stood and threw the skin away, then found himself in the kitchen, just staring at the rack of knives.

His eyes drifted down. When he'd gotten changed, he'd taken the watch off, and not put it back on. The scar across his wrist gleamed dully in the kitchen light. It had been a different apartment, last time; a packet of pills, scotch, blood and pain. He'd wimped out then. Backed away, like the coward he was. Well, now Jeff was no coward. He'd told Annie how he felt. Without even thinking about it, his hand had wrapped around a handle, and he pulled the knife from it's block. It had come with him from the old apartment. They were expensive, and very sharp. He could feel the weight in his hand as he turned it, slowly. It was like he was operating from far away, through levers and pulleys; not really part of the scene. The light caught the blade and briefly showed him a warped version of himself. Or maybe it was the real him.

Annie would be disappointed. But Annie was gone. And she didn't need him any more. That much was clear. Still holding the knife loosely, Jeff went into his room; picking up the glass of scotch. He could see the scar flexing as his hand tensed. A way out. Back into the light. The kitchen was the right idea. Easier to clean up. Things the old Jeff would never have even thought about. Tilting the glass back, he drank it all the put it aside with a soft clunk. A deep breath as he pressed the blade against his skin, feeling the cold metal.  
"Sorry, Annie." he whispered, very quietly. His mind flickered through a dozen thoughts; Britta calling him a textbook narcissist. Well, not any more. They'd fixed that. Fix Greendale committee. The fix Jeff Winger committee, maybe.  
He pushed.

The blade was sharp enough that it seemed to glide through his skin. He watched as blood began to bubble up, but knew from experience it wasn't deep enough. Cursing lowly, he shifted the red blade down a little more, under the old scar he'd just opened, and slashed again. The pain brought with it a burst of pleasure, and he found himself biting his lip. Red was trickling off his arm, pattering to the floor, but it still wasn't enough. He gouged a third mark, this one even lighter than the others. Cursing to himself, Jeff switched the blade to his injured arm, holding it as tightly as possible.  
"Do it properly." he snarled at himself. "Coward. Stupid fucking coward. Do it properly!" he was almost shouting as he drove the blade in.  
This time, he dropped it.  
Clattering loudly, the knife almost covered Jeff's heavy bleeding. He looked down as the red spattered onto his white tiles. The pain, the throbbing, was pleasant as well as painful. He felt lightheaded but that could've been because of anything.  
"Let me pass out, please, let me just pass out." he begged his body, as he fell to his knees, staring at the red puddle. Then he flopped onto his side, staring at the cabinets, feeling the rapidly cooling blood he was laying in stick to his skin. With a sigh, Jeff shut his eyes.

"I promised I'd get out. One way or another." he whispered, unaware of the banging on the door as his mind gave him what he'd been pleading for. 


	4. The Bed

 

The Bed.

"Jeffrey? Oh my god, Jeffrey. Stay with me. Oh my god. Please."  
Oh. He wasn't completely unconscious. How annoying. Through the fog, Jeff could hear Craig's voice, feel warm hands on his very cold upper arms. What was going on, again?  
Oh, right.  
Why wasn't he dead yet? Stupid coward. Can't even kill yourself right any more, Jeff thought, keeping his eyes shut. Why was Craig even here?  
So many stupid questions.  
His arms were aching.  
"Hello, yes? I need an ambulance, please, it's my friend, he - he's cut his wrists, I can't stop the bleeding, oh god! Please, please hurry. Jeffrey! Stay awake! Please!"  
Craig was crying, it sounded like. That wasn't fair. He wasn't supposed to even be here to see this. Maybe the dean had been worrying about him? That was sweet... probably...

Then everything went floaty for a bit.

"Mr Winger?" the voice felt like it was coming through a cheap filter. Who's voice was that? Jeff slowly became aware of himself. Almost against his will, his eyes began to flicker. The smell of antiseptic and the feeling of being moved came to him; he was rocking side to side, as if he was laying on his back in a car. When his eyes opened, he took in the lights above him, then tilted his head just a touch to see who was talking to him. A paramedic? Looked like.  
"Mr Winger." there was relief there. "We're taking you to Greendale Hospital, alright?"  
"Jeffrey!" a voice squeaked from the corner, but luckily someone had the sense of mind to keep the dean held back.  
"Mr Pelton says he found you on your floor, having cut your wrists, Mr Winger." he glanced down and saw they'd been hastily bandaged. "We're going to have to put you in an observation ward once you've been treated, alright? Just stay calm." apparently they were worried he would get violent.

Jeff had no intention of getting violent. Not with them, at least. He wanted to be angry at the dean for finding him, but somehow couldn't bring himself to. The man looked so absolutely distraught... his arms gave a throb and Jeff just shut his eyes.  
"Mr Winger?" he heard the voice ask, again, but couldn't make himself answer. Despite the bright vehicle, that fog was heavy again. He just wanted to sleep.  
  
He was taken inside, the dean in attendance. He walked when he was told, did as he was told, asked no questions and answered nothing. The dean, looking more and more scared, kept answering for him. Jeff should've been worried by the amount he knew but didn't. It was helpful. They unwrapped his arms and cleaned them, used skin glue to seal the wounds. All that effort wasted, Jeff thought numbly, watching as his veins were hidden away again. The dean had excused himself to be sick. Then, when his arms were rewrapped to prevent infection, a form and a pen were handed to him. They were asking him questions again. Jeff just found himself staring blankly.  
"Jeffrey?" the dean said, quietly. The pale hand rested on top of his. Jeff's blue eyes found the dean, and he tilted his head just a touch. "Jeffrey, why won't you talk to us? What is it? Come on. Please?" he was pleading. Jeff swallowed, adam's apple bobbing, but didn't talk. Something in him had shut down at his failed attempt. The second one. "Oh, Jeffrey." the dean sighed, sadly. "Why does this keep happening to my teachers..?"

They didn't let him go. And as he wasn't talking, Jeff could hardly object. He was taken to a ward, assigned a bed, which he was grateful to see. Still in his pyjamas, though he'd been given some slippers, Jeff just climbed straight into it, staring at his bound wrists. The dean got into the chair near him, and Jeff finally registered that the man was also in pyjamas. Briefly, he wanted to ask what time it was, as his watch was gone... but talking was still too much energy. Instead, he closed his eyes, and his body allowed him to slip back into the ever friendly abyss.

When he stirred, it was because he'd heard something. His eyes opened, as he was already facing the direction of the sound. The dean was on his phone, stood over by the window, facing out of it.  
"I don't know, Annie." that named sent a jolt straight into his chest. "He's not talking. I've never seen him like this. It's like he's in a total shutdown." a pause. "No, it's not like that time. I don't think he wanted to - to die, then, Annie. But it's Jeffrey. How can we know?" with a kind of abstract awareness, Jeff realised that the dean was crying again. It still didn't matter. What did matter was the voice on the other end of the phone, the one he couldn't hear from this distance. "I think it might help. I don't know. I'll stay with him as long as I need to. Alright. You take care." then Craig closed his phone and turned around.

"Jeffrey!" he gasped, scurrying over. "You're awake. How do you feel?" he asked, reaching out to take one of Jeff's hands. "Oh, silly me. You're not going to answer, are you?" his face crumpled up and Craig grabbed another tissue, pressing it to his eyes. "Oh, Jeffrey. Why?" he asked, sniffling. "I'm sorry, I'm just ... of all people I never thought I'd see you like that! I was just talking to Annie. She said she's going to come back and see you. She's talking to her mentor, they said she can come visit for a family emergency."  
Alarm began to spread through Jeff's system, jolting him into a kind of awareness that he hadn't been in for days.  
"Annie's coming?" he croaked.  
The dean gasped and looked close to passing out at Jeff's comment. He covered his mouth with one hand, nodding, tears in his eyes once more. Jeff rolled away, facing up at the ceiling. "Annie's coming." he said, quietly. Conflict brewed inside him. Then he looked over at the dean.

"Tell her not to come."  
"But Jeffrey -"  
"Tell her not to come, Craig! She can't see me like this."  
"Jeff, she already knows. She cares. She wants you to get better -"  
"No, because if she sees me like this, she'll stay to try and fix me!" he growled out, "And she can't do that. She has to stay in DC. She has to run the FBI, she has to be president. I can't be responsible for holding her back!" he put his arm on the bed to push himself up and gave a yelp of pain, folding and pulling the arm close to his chest.  
"Jeff - I - okay. Okay! Just stay laying down, please!" the dean pleaded, and Jeff did as he was told, even as he stared intently at Craig. "I'll ring her. Okay? But this is Annie. I don't think anybody can tell her what to do." and this time, Craig left the room. Jeff glared but didn't get up to spy. He still felt too shaky.

Five minutes later, Craig came in.  
"She said..." he took a deep breath, "That she won't come yet. But she will come visit you soon, Jeffrey. And she said please -" his voice cracked. "Please don't do anything stupid again, because she doesn't know what she'd do without you." Jeff shut his eyes, thinking about that. The guilt bubbled up and he did the best he could to try not to think about it any more.  
But damn, he wished he'd managed it this time.


	5. The Belief

 

The Belief.

"Jeff?" his eyes opened at that soft voice. They were wide, almost alarmed, as he went to push up on his arms he made a sound of pain. "Jeff!" and now the soft voice was worried and angry. "Stay laid down, you idiot." a soft, warm hand rested on his chest, and Jeff looked up, meeting Annie's concerned grey eyes. She looked tired; makeup smudged, wearing a smart skirt suit, still with her FBI badge on.  
"You said you weren't coming." he whispered, unable to tear his eyes from her face.  
"I lied." she gave him a little half smile, "I got on the first plane I could. I had enough saved, more than enough, and the internship is really good money, so..." she trailed off and shrugged, taking the chair the dean had been sat in before. "Jeff." she sounded very soft, very sad, taking his right arm and gingerly touching the bandage.  
"When you said that we saved your life, I didn't think you meant literally." she mumbled.  
"You weren't supposed to come back."

Annie looked up at Jeff, raising an eyebrow at him.  
"I came back because I care." she said. "I put so much thought into it, Jeff, after... after the lab. After everything that happened. And when you finally told me how I felt. You don't hold me back, and I don't ever want you to think that you do. In fact, you're responsible for teaching me just how much I can achieve. I'm worth more than being a hospital administrator. And you showed me that." she gave his hand a little squeeze. "But it's good to know that I have you guys. No matter where in the world you are, if I have you guys? I'm gonna be fine. You're like my family, now. Only better." he looked down at the tiny hands holding his massive one.

"I'm not the same man any more."  
"No. You're not." she replied, quietly. "You aren't the Jeff I fell in love with. Because he didn't care about me. But you're the Jeff that I feel okay to leave here. Because he's a decent person. Because he'll do the right thing." she touched the bandage again. "Because he knows that, no matter where I am, I'll still feel the same." her eyes met his and she leant in.  
The last time they'd kissed felt like so long ago. But there was no discomfort now. She rested her lips on his for a moment, then pulled back. Jeff let out a very soft sigh.  
"I'll go back tomorrow." she told him, "I got a return flight. But I had to make sure you were okay." he could feel the tears trickling down his face. Reaching out, Annie plucked a tissue and handed it to him without comment.

"I never thought you'd be the guy to try to do... this. Not now. Never, really. Before, you were a narcissist. Nothing could take the glory that was you away from this world," she said, with a bit of a giggle and a soft smile. Jeff found himself smiling back. "And now, I figured you could see how important you are to other people. Greendale needs you, Jeff. Especially now me and Abed are gone." his face fell again. Roughly rubbing his eyes with the tissue, Jeff gave her hand a little squeeze back. "Seriously. You're important. And I don't know how I'd deal if you weren't here waiting for me. You've never held me back."  
"It's not the first time." he replied, soft. "Back when I got disbarred. I don't... cope well. With this stuff. Being a narcissist was all that protected me. And you guys have stripped me back to this. to someone who cares. I told you before, Annie. Caring is fatal."  
Annie shook her head. "No, Jeff. Caring isn't fatal. Caring keeps you going. Caring, and hope, and - and love. Stick it out. I've seen you enjoy teaching before. I want you to really try. For me, alright?" she tilted her head a little. "Greendale needs a teacher who actually knows what he's doing."

He swallowed again, hard. Her features were imploring him.  
"Don't give up, Jeff. Ring me. Or Abed. Or Britta, even. Anyone. You still have friends, even if they're not there with you. Everyone cares. Abed wanted to fly back but he couldn't afford it yet." she gently ran her thumb over his knuckles. "I need you to promise, Jeff. Don't do this. Don't go down this path. Get help. Don't ever give in, okay?" her voice was low and fierce and Jeff felt almost afraid.  
Then he found himself giving a sad little smile.  
"I promise." he said, low and husky. "Do you think you can spring me from this joint?" he asked, but she shook her head.  
"You need to talk to your therapist." she said, quietly. "I think they got in touch with her. Please. Try?" he nodded again, then gingerly kissed her hand. Annie smiled at him.

Then she let go of his hand, and reached into her pocket. "Listen, I, uh. I don't need this any more. And I thought you could look after it for me?" she asked him, pulling out her purse. Jeff raised an eyebrow. Then she extracated a thin card from it, passing it over to him. It was her Greendale Student card. His eyes flickered back up to her face. "Just in case I need it back." she told him, softly. He nodded, and rested it very gently on the bedside table. "I'm not realy gone, Jeff. You have to break out of this." she sighed. After a moment, Jeff hesitated, then shifted over, making space for her in the bed.  
Kicking off her shoes, Annie smiled, and climbed into it. "There's probably a rule about this." she whispered. Jeff just smiled, wrapping his arms around her, and shut his eyes as she did the same. And that was how the dean found them twenty minutes later, both fast asleep, breathing soft and quiet and a gentle smile on Jeff's lips. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And done. Please leave me reviews and constructive criticism!


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